


Invitations

by kinsale_42



Series: McHanzo [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Attraction, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Kissing, M/M, Pursuit, Romance, being nervous, life outside work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-07 23:54:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13446087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinsale_42/pseuds/kinsale_42
Summary: It's been three weeks since the job in King's Row wrapped up, and Hanzo is startled when Jesse suddenly appears in his neighborhood with an offer for another Overwatch mission. Jesse is hoping that the trip he's made will prove to be as much for pleasure as for business.





	Invitations

Hanzo's phone beeped. He turned from the window and picked the device up from the table where he'd left it.

_ 'Howdy! Would you happen to be at home to visitors?' _

Hanzo didn't recognize the number, but the language... He tapped out a response.

_ 'It would depend on the visitor.' _

He waited. A few minutes passed. He laid the phone back down on the table and returned to the narrow sliver of a harbor view his apartment commanded. His phone beeped again.

_ 'What if I promise not to sing?'  _ There was a photo attached, of Jesse, winking.

Hanzo's breath caught in his throat. He'd spent three weeks trying to avoid thinking of all the ways he would destroy a relationship with Jesse, all the ways he'd probably already ruined his chances. Leaving without saying goodbye, for one. But was this a sign that maybe it hadn't ended before it had even begun? 

Then cold rationality descended upon him. What if this was some kind of trap? Only his brother and Winston knew how to reach him. He guarded his privacy jealously, always on the watch for something from his shadowed past with the fallen Shimada empire to catch up with him. It could be just as bad for someone from his current professional life to see how little there truly was to his private existence. And if this really was Jesse, how did he find Hanzo in the first place? Seconds ticked by as he tried to decide how to respond.

_ 'Where are you?'  _ he typed, and pressed send.

The answer came quickly.  _ 'At the Shamrock Cafe. Meet me for a coffee?' _

Jesse had his number and knew his neighborhood. All at once, it was as though two dragons warred within him. One was thrilled that the object of his affection had wanted to see him so much he had gone to the trouble of finding him in an out-of-the-way location. The other wanted to shut all the frivolity down before it got out of hand, anticipating violence, or at least misery, rather than pleasure. They agreed to a truce: investigate, but expect treachery. Hanzo looked at the snapshot again. The background definitely looked like the interior of the Shamrock. He'd been there enough times to recognize it. And that face looked up at him, Jesse's face. His expression looked natural, as jocular as usual, with none of the strain that appeared around his eyes when a mission was going wrong.

Hanzo took a slow breath, attempting to tame his racing pulse before composing his reply.  _ 'I will be there in fifteen minutes.'  _ He stared at the words until the display timed out and went dark. He clicked it on again, and then hesitated yet another few seconds before pushing the send button. The phone went dark and silent in his hand, and still he watched it, motionless. He nearly jumped when it beeped again.

_ 'I'll be waiting with bells on.'  _

He shoved the phone in his pocket and went to splash some water on his face. Using damp hands, he smoothed his hair back and bound it, revealing where he’d shaved the lower part of his scalp a few days before in a fit of pique. Hanzo examined his appearance in the mirror, and shrugged. “Acceptable,” he muttered to himself, then launched himself towards the door, where he slipped on his shoes and shoved his hands into the sleeves of his coat, grabbing his keys in the same fluid motion.

Ten minutes was more than enough time for Hanzo to walk four blocks, but he took every minute of it. It wasn’t just that he took an indirect route, as was his custom, but he needed the time to still his mind. Yet as he crossed the last street and approached the door of the cafe, his heart fluttered up and stuck in his throat. And there inside, sitting in the corner, waiting for him, was Jesse, his hands wrapped tightly around his paper coffee cup.

Jesse blinked, hard, when Hanzo stepped in to the cafe. He didn’t think three weeks was long enough to forget how good-looking someone was, but by golly, it felt like he’d just been socked in the gut. They nodded in greeting as Hanzo got in line to place an order, and Jesse tried hard to contain his spontaneous grin. He reminded himself that he was here for business more than pleasure, but, well, he couldn’t help but be pleased. 

Hanzo collected his chai latte and walked over to Jesse’s table. “Hello,” he said. 

“Hey there, stranger,” replied Jesse. “Care to join me?”

“I would prefer to walk, if that is an option.” 

“Sure thing. Angela’s been on my case about not getting enough exercise, anyway.” Jesse picked up his hat and pulled on his coat, a long leather duster. “Left the serape at home this time. Not quite warm enough this time of year, at least not this far north.” He looked at Hanzo’s new hairstyle again. “I can see I’m not the only one that’s decided to mix things up a bit.”

Hanzo felt his face flush. “I grew tired of my reflection in the mirror.”

Jesse held the door open, and as Hanzo passed him, he said in a low voice, “It looks good. I like it.” And I like your pink cheeks, he thought.

Out in the cold damp of a January afternoon, Hanzo led the way northwest from the coffeehouse, away from his apartment. “What brings you to this part of the world?” he asked his comrade. He thought of the single glorious kiss they’d shared in London, and the crushing sense of failure he’d felt the next morning, when, unable to face Jesse in front of Jack and Ana, he’d left for his flight without a word. Hanzo thought he’d already ruined whatever the kiss had promised, yet Jesse was here beside him and apparently happy about it.

“Ah, well, the secure comms are down at HQ, so everyone that was still around the base got sent out to personally deliver invitations for the next job.” This wasn’t entirely untrue. The secure comms had indeed crashed for a few days right when the call would have gone out to the free agents. It wouldn’t have seriously affected the response time, no more than sending personnel out to deliver the requests would. But Jesse had seen an opportunity and leapt at it, padding it with some excuse of needing a couple of days away from HQ after having been on shift over the holidays. He left Winston thinking there was also some matter of providing extra security for Hanzo on the trip back to base for the pre-mission briefings. 

“I see,” said Hanzo as they turned left, passing a small ramen shop. His steps slowed slightly as they passed the next storefront, his eyes drawn to the magical display of decorated cakes and other tempting confections in the bakery window. If Jesse had been sent out by HQ, then it was probably just another assignment. He turned to find the cowboy watching him.

“I made sure I got yours,” Jesse admitted. That was unplanned, but there was something in Hanzo’s voice that sounded like disappointment, and he had to fix it.

Hanzo’s eyebrows lifted slightly, but he didn’t say anything. He took a drink of his tea as they came up to the last pedestrian crossing before the tiny city park that was his intended destination. They stood silently, waiting for the light to change. Then it did, and Jesse stayed at his friend’s side as they walked across the sliver of green that grew on the edge of a cliff, below which sprawled the port and all its varied shipping and industrial facilities.

“I like it here,” said Hanzo. “I like the cranes.” He gestured at the massive structures that were loading and unloading cargo ships in the harbor.

Jesse leaned against the railing and took the last sip from his now-cold coffee. “It’s quite a view. Especially with the lights coming on like they are.” The early winter evening was already beginning to close in around them, and the breeze off the water was chilly.

“Jesse. I am sorry.”

“What for, friend?” The cowboy’s face was all a question mark. He felt a lump rise in his throat.

Hanzo ignored his feelings of shame and shyness and looked directly at the man beside him. “I did not say goodbye when I left London. We shared a...a closeness, and then I failed to show you the respect you deserved.”

Jesse just looked at Hanzo for a minute before he replied. “Well, shucks. Don’t you worry about that. Water under the bridge. Didn’t stop me coming to fetch you, did it?” The lump in his throat dissipated, his fears not having been realized. He thought longingly of the cigar in his inside coat pocket, but he had promised himself he wouldn’t smoke around Hanzo so long as there was a possibility they might kiss again. At this point, there was still a slight chance of that.  

The assassin’s expression softened visibly. He’d expected almost any response but the one he’d gotten, and he felt the warmth grow within him as another layer of his defense peeled away. Taking a long swallow of his swiftly cooling chai, he considered his next step. 

“Shall we return to my home?” Hanzo asked. “The time for a meal approaches, and I would be honored if you would join me.”

He was rewarded by one of Jesse’s famous smiles, the kind that lit up his whole face. “Please don’t go to any trouble for little ol’ me, but yes, I would love to.”

They began walking, disposing of their empty cups as they passed a waste disposal bin. Hanzo still felt a bit flustered, and tried to diminish the formality of his invitation a little. “It is no trouble. I was merely going to collect our dinner on the way back.” 

The gravity of his decision to allow Jesse McCree into the private sanctum of his personal residence didn’t hit Hanzo until they were in the elevator on the way up to the eighth floor. He choked back the fear that he would be exposing his inner world. To him, every piece that decorated his apartment had meaning--things that he had created, or ones that represented memories, brought him peace, gave him inspiration. To Jesse, they would just be furnishings of little significance. He focused on his breathing and composed his face as they approached the door of his apartment.

They entered, and Hanzo indicated a peg where Jesse could leave his coat. He looked down at the cowboy’s boots. His own practice was to follow the tradition of removing outside footwear at the door, but he had no slippers to offer Jesse that would fit those feet. He decided to say nothing. Jesse was a guest, after all, and it would be polite to allow him to follow his own custom. Hanzo removed his own shoes and slid his feet into his slippers.

“Where would you like this?” Jesse asked, holding up the bag of take-out he’d insisted on carrying. (“If you won’t let me pay for it, at least let me carry it,” he’d said.)

“I will take it,” answered Hanzo, taking the bag and unpacking it onto the kitchen counter as Jesse hung up his long coat and hat. 

“You don’t have to get all fancy for me. I have eaten out of take-out containers more times than I can count,” Jesse said before Hanzo could get plates down from the cabinet. “Less work to do afterwards, too.”

Hanzo’s mouth twitched at the corners. “Why does that not surprise me?” he asked. “Can I interest you in a fork, or are you comfortable with chopsticks?”

“Are you trying to smile? I think you’re trying to smile.” Jesse grinned, then turned slightly sheepish. “Yeah, I uh, probably should use a fork. Last time I tried chopsticks I got a little too much leverage and launched a prawn across the room.” He held out a sealed white envelope. “Your invitation to the party.”

A fork went on to the tray with the food, next to the chopsticks and the pile of napkins. Hanzo reached into the small refrigerator and pulled out two bottles of beer. He traded them for the envelope Jesse was holding. With the envelope between two fingers, he picked up the tray and led the way from the kitchen to the living room, bumping light switches with his elbows along the way to turn off and on lights.

“Well ain’t this nice,” said Jesse as he took in the details of the room. The walls were a pale dove gray except for the wall with the holo-fireplace, which was a muted blue around the stone hearth. The furniture was all of a graceful Scandinavian style, primarily in walnut and birch. A folding bamboo screen separated the living area from the kitchen, something he hadn’t noticed from the kitchen side.  Soft, indirect lighting gave the area a sense of warmth and illuminated a grouping of woodblock prints over the sofa. “I wouldn’t have expected your place to be quite like this, Hanzo.”

Hanzo set the tray down on the coffee table and turned on the electric holo-fire. “What did you expect? Tatami mats and rice paper screens?” He fished a cushion out from behind a chair and positioned it carefully next to the table before sitting cross-legged upon it.

Jesse found spots for the beer bottles on the tray, and sat down on the edge of the very rectangular charcoal gray sofa. “I suppose I thought you’d either be pretty traditionally Japanese or, I don’t know, very utilitarian.” He thought of all the bachelor crash pads he’d inhabited since he’d left home as a kid: the mattresses on the floor, milk crates and folding chairs, and only the hardwired overhead lighting to keep him from darkness. “This is really comfortable though. It suits you.” He reached for a beer and twisted the top off before settling in to eat from the box Hanzo had opened and placed in front of him.

Hanzo tore open the envelope and unfolded the sheet of paper enclosed within. He read it quickly, then read it once more before refolding it and laying it down on the table. As he picked up his chopsticks and reached for his box of yakisoba, he said, trying to sound casual, “The letter is dated a week ago. And the flight to HQ is booked for tomorrow. Did you come by bus?”

Jesse coughed and sputtered mid-mouthful. Hanzo handed him a napkin and waited for him to regain control. “Ahem. Yes, well, I...uh, I had to locate your address.” Hanzo continued eat his noodles, his eyes fixed on Jesse’s face and his expression revealing nothing. “And, uh, I had to decide on a good method to contact you.” And I was nervous as hell, he finished silently. He looked around the room, trying to think of a good way to divert attention from himself. His gaze landed on the single decorative object on the mantelpiece.

“Is that a cherry branch? Where did you find one of those blooming this time of year?”

Automatically, Hanzo looked back over his shoulder, even though he knew without thinking what Jesse referred to. “It is artificial. I made it.”

“It looks real. You really made it?”

“Yes, I did. I do not just sit and stare at the wall when I am not working.” Hanzo’s mouth twitched again. He was amused at a flustered Jesse, amused at his transparent attempt at redirection, and just a trifle flattered that a little bit of his hobby-work had made an impression.

“What else do you get up to between gigs?” Jesse asked, genuinely curious. In his surprise at Hanzo’s artistry, he forgot to be embarrassed about his own failings of confidence.

Hanzo swallowed some beer before answering. “I train, I read, I have a few other hobbies.” He left out the part about standing at the edge of the waterfront and staring westwards towards his old home and the life he had lost, the life he had himself destroyed. But even though he didn’t say the words, Jesse sensed the underlying sadness. It was something he struggled with, too, the regrets, the unfinished mourning of what had happened in the past.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, and then Hanzo said, “I have everything I need here, but I wish I could have some living things with which to share it. A pet, some plants. But this life we lead does not permit such a luxury. Too much time away.”

“I know what you mean,” Jesse answered. “It can be a lonely sort of life in a way, even when you’re part of a team.” He fished the last piece of katsu out of his box and ate it. “So, are you going to join us in Gibraltar?”

“Yes, I will.” Hanzo began gathering up the empty food containers.

“Ever going to join us Overwatchers full time?” Jesse asked.

The assassin looked up into the cowboy’s dark grey eyes. “I will decide that when I receive the offer to do so.” He paused. “Do you experience no difficulty working for them, even after your history with the organization?”

“Well, now, I would say there are good days and bad days.” Jesse made eye contact with Hanzo. “More good days lately than bad.”

Hanzo did not look away. “Are you trying to flatter me?” he asked. His eyebrow lifted.

“Let me ask you one thing before I answer that...Is it working?” Jesse grinned.

Hanzo laughed, a short bark of a laugh, and got up with the tray. “Another beer?” he asked as he began towards the kitchen.

“Please and thank you!” Jesse answered. Part of him wanted to dive headlong into trying to woo this man, and the other part was completely terrified of doing so. It had been so long since he’d been involved with anyone, and that last time had been no good from start to finish. This seemed like it might be a lot better, but then, he wasn’t sure he could handle something so fine, or that he even deserved it. Damn, he needed a smoke. 

“Would you be interested in going up to the roof?” Hanzo asked as he handed Jesse a bottle. “The view is impressive on a clear evening like tonight. And, you can smoke there, if you would like to.”

“You read my mind, friend. Lead the way.” Jesse hadn’t given up on his idea of kissing, but he would just have to figure something else out. He stood up and took a quick swig of his beer before heading for the entryway to grab his coat.

It was then that Hanzo noticed Jesse was in his sock feet. He’d removed his boots at the door without a word. Hanzo was touched by the thoughtfulness of the gesture.

In just a few minutes, they were out on the rooftop terrace under the stars, bundled up against the cold of the January night. The city glowed around them, the streets still busy in the late evening, the buildings lit from within, full of life. At twelve stories, the breeze off the water was brisk, but Jesse got his cigar lit with only a little extra effort. He’d had lots of practice.

“Ahhh that’s nice. I needed that.” He tried to stand downwind of Hanzo to keep him out of the smoke.

“I would suggest sitting,” said Hanzo, indicating the cedar benches around the terrace, “but it is colder than I expected.”

“It’s fine,” replied Jesse. “You were right, very nice view from up here. I can even see those cranes you’re so fond of.” He gestured to the north. Then he looked back at his friend. “D’you come up here to satisfy your sniper nature?”

“Heh. It is not quite my style of perch, but I do come here when I feel the need to keep an eye on things.” Hanzo took a drink from his bottle. He switched it to his left hand and stuck the colder right hand in his pocket to warm it up.

“How do you do it? Live a normal life when you’re a sniper, I mean. Don’t you see assassins in every shadow? Constantly scan the skyline for that rifle that’s going to remove you as a threat?” Jesse dropped the ash off the end of his stogie into a receptacle apparently designed for the purpose, then returned to watching Hanzo’s face.

“I could ask you the same.”

“I tend to meet my adversaries face to face, though, toe to toe. And admittedly, I try to talk my way out of every situation I possibly can.” Jesse smiled wryly and looked away. “I talk too damn much for my own good sometimes. Anyway, I know what it’s like. To a hammer, everything looks like a nail, right? I guess I just assumed your hypervigilance would be more developed than mine.” 

Hanzo nodded slightly as he gazed at the city lights. “It is possible that it is. I still expect that there are elements that wish to ensure I never return to reclaim the Shimada empire, and those that would seek revenge for losses incurred in the empire’s fall. Perhaps they exist, perhaps they do not. So, yes, I do look for assassins around every corner and atop every building, but it has become so much a part of my nature that I do not always notice it.” He turned his head back towards his companion. “And I assume you already have a plan in mind to extricate yourself from this situation if it does not proceed the way you intend.”

“I, uh…” Jesse was startled to realize Hanzo was right. He hadn’t even been consciously aware of it, but he’d been marking exits and thinking of excuses the entire afternoon and evening in case things went sideways. “I guess we both have work to do, if we want any sort of peace, eh?” He took a pull on his cigar.

“I am beginning to believe that to find peace, one must accept what one is, and choose to live anyway. A considerable challenge.”

He wasn’t sure if that was meant to have subtext, but something within Jesse took it as a call to action. He stubbed out his cigar half-smoked, and said, “Let’s go back inside. It’s freezing out here.”

The silence between them in the elevator was heavy and made it difficult to mark the passage of time. All of Hanzo’s existence seemed to be centered on how Jesse was standing so close at his side that their arms were just at the edge of contact. He could hear Jesse breathing, smell the combination of cold air, cigar smoke, and the scent of cologne that was only noticeable when he was this close. And then, the moment passed, but Hanzo’s sense of intoxication persisted.

As they got their outerwear stowed once more, he said, “Thank you for removing your boots. I would not have asked you, as a guest, and someone who was not raised in my culture, but I appreciate that you have done so. I only wish I could offer you some slippers, but I have none that would be large enough.”

Jesse smiled as he made sure his hat was secure on its peg. “Ah, well I figured, you know, when in Rome? And if you don’t mind my sock feet, I don’t mind not having slippers. Not many folks visit with big feet like mine, eh?”

“Not many visitors with feet of any size. You may count yourself one of the privileged.”

“Say, where’s the facilities?” Jesse asked. “I need to, er, powder my nose.” Just because he’d lived as an outlaw, it didn't mean he'd completely forgotten the manners his momma taught him. If there was a better time to use them than right now, he hadn't thought of it yet. 

Hanzo directed him to the correct door and then couldn't help but smile at the thought of Jesse actually powdering his nose. While his companion was addressing the call of nature, Hanzo adjusted the lights and turned the holo-fire on to provide both flame display and heat. He thought about turning the radio on, but he didn't want to look like he was trying too hard. He didn't even know if Jesse was going to stay much longer, having accomplished what he was sent to do. So he stood by the hearth and waited, thinking of possibilities. 

In that moment, Jesse stepped up behind him, placing his hand lightly in the center of Hanzo's back. He could feel the muscle through the soft knit fabric of Hanzo's shirt, and the heat of his body. Hanzo turned smoothly into the circle of Jesse’s tentative embrace, slipping one hand around Jesse's waist to bring him closer, and sliding the other up to pull his head down for a kiss. 

The sense of relief that Hanzo wanted him as much as he wanted Hanzo was almost as pleasurable to Jesse as the kiss. The resilient feel of Hanzo's lips, the warm softness of his tongue, the gracefully athletic body pressed against his chest, combined with a clear expression of desire...it seemed like Jesse had been transported directly to heaven. 

“Well now,” he said, a little shakily, when it was over. “I'm starting to think you might like me. Better be careful, or I might develop an oversized ego.” Even as he joked, giddiness was threatening to overtake him. 

“You? Ego? Never.” Hanzo chuckled drily. 

Jesse burst out in laughter then, a rich, hearty sound that filled the room. He squeezed Hanzo tightly, taking care not to cause any bruises with his prosthetic arm. “You are just what I need, sweetpea. I never thought I’d see the day.”

Hanzo buried himself in Jesse’s arms and reveled in the warmth. He’d abandoned any hope of finding joy in life long ago, yet here it was, flooding his body, reverberating through him like Jesse’s steady heartbeat. He didn’t ever want to let go, but…

“Jesse. Excuse me for just a moment. My nose, too, could use some attention. Please, make yourself at home. I will be right back.” Hanzo slipped out of Jesse’s embrace and made for the bathroom.

Jesse wandered over to the couch and sat down, stretching his arm out along the back. He hadn’t dared hope that this kind of connection could happen, so he had no plan, no idea what to do next. Right now, it felt like he was on top of the world, and he just knew he didn’t want to fall off.

Then, like a dream, Hanzo was next to him again, drawing him into another kiss. His hands found their way up Hanzo’s strong back to his shoulder blades, his natural right hand caressing the muscles that so easily sent arrows quivering through unsuspecting targets. He felt Hanzo’s fingers slip up the outside of his thigh to squeeze gently at his hip, then slide beneath him to cup the roundness of his bum. Jesse shivered at his touch, and let Hanzo arrange his body so they could lie together on the couch.

The kiss finished, leaving them to gaze searchingly into each other’s eyes. Hanzo had let his hair down, and Jesse couldn’t resist running his fingers through it, watching as the light picked out the silver threads that shot through the black silk. “I’ve never seen your hair down,” he said. “I like it.” He dragged his fingertips lightly across the fuzz of Hanzo’s undercut and down the back of his neck, smiling as Hanzo’s eyelids closed in pleasure. 

“Jesse,” Hanzo said, when his eyes had opened again. “Can we do this, and work together?”

“If you’re asking if Overwatch will have a problem, I don’t think they have the standing to make an issue of it. We’re not an official military organization anymore, so there’s no governmental regs to abide by.” Jesse paused, stroking Hanzo’s hair again. “If you’re asking if we will have a problem, well, sugar, I just don’t know. I guess we have to take it as it comes.”

Hanzo sighed and let his elegant fingers play along Jesse’s jaw. “I suppose if I were to be compromised by strong emotion, I would already be finished.”

“Your brother?” Jesse asked softly.

Hanzo nodded slowly. “I can imagine no other situation as difficult as what passes between my brother and I, and yet I am still able to successfully accomplish mission goals.” He lifted his chin and barely touched his lips to Jesse’s. “We would do well to be cautious, however.”

“Careful’s the word. Got it.” Jesse smiled. “It’s gonna take a while for this to sink in, anyhow. Doesn’t seem quite real.”

“I assure you, Jesse McCree, I am very real.” The corner of Hanzo’s mouth turned up in a wry grin.

“I’m startin’ to worry about you. All this smilin’, you’re gonna pull a muscle.” Jesse lifted an eyebrow. “I’d better make sure you don’t,” he finished, and drew Hanzo’s face towards his own for another lengthy kiss. 

The heat between them was threatening to burst into open flame. Jesse broke away first, his pulse pounding in his ears, his body responding to Hanzo’s touch, to the weight of Hanzo’s body against him. He wasn’t ready for this, not yet. He hadn’t really planned for things to get this far so quickly. “I should go,” he said weakly. “You still have to get your stuff ready to leave tomorrow. And as much as I like where this is going, I’m not quite prepared for it yet. I...it’s still a bit of a surprise to me.”

Hanzo scrutinized his face, searching for the signals that would either reinforce or contradict Jesse’s words. Jesse was a little out of breath, his lips moist and parted, his eyes soft, his eyebrows drawn together slightly as he silently pleaded for Hanzo to understand. “You are correct, of course.” Hanzo swung his body gracefully off the edge of the couch and offered his hand to assist Jesse to his feet. “I would advise caution in one moment and then abandon it in the next.”

Jesse accepted the hand, and when he was standing, he used it to pull Hanzo into his arms. “I want to be with you, I just don’t want to rush into it. I want to do right by you. You deserve that much.”

Hanzo felt Jesse’s voice vibrate through his own chest. It had been so long since he’d been this close to anyone, and even longer since it was someone he truly desired. He closed his eyes and laid his head against Jesse’s neck, holding him as firmly as he was being held. They stood quietly together for a minute before they stepped apart again.

“Thank you for coming to see me,” Hanzo said. It sounded like he had once more fallen back on the formal manners and stock phrases he’d been trained to use growing up as the heir to an empire, but Jesse could tell by the way his eyes sparkled that he really meant it. And there, that was a hint of the smile that had been threatening to burst out all evening.

“It’s been my pleasure,” Jesse replied. He started to move towards the entryway, but kept his eyes on Hanzo. “I’ll be by about eleven tomorrow with a car to take us to the airport. Sound good?”

Hanzo inclined his head. “That will be fine. I will be ready.” He turned the light on in the hall and watched as Jesse put on his boots and coat, and retrieved his hat.

Before he moved to touch the door, Jesse turned to Hanzo, his hat still in his hand. He gazed into Hanzo’s face as though he wanted to memorize it. “Good night, Han,” he said tenderly.

“Good night, Jesse,” replied Hanzo, his voice a little rough around the edges. They kissed, and there was a little desperation to it, a mild sense of panic at the thought of being apart so soon after they had found each other. It was almost enough to make Jesse second-guess his decision to take things slow, but the small part of his brain that was still rational managed to retain control. They had all the time in the world, no need to crash in like the proverbial bull in a china shop and risk smashing their fragile connection before it had time to develop into something stronger. How many times would he have to tell himself that before he actually believed it?

And then he was gone, and Hanzo was facing a closed door. He leaned his forehead against it, still feeling the crush of Jesse’s lips against his own, still smelling Jesse’s scent on his skin. He’d risked everything by lowering his defenses and now he felt exposed, but so incredibly warm and full of light that he felt bulletproof in a totally new way. He practically floated around the apartment, gathering the things he would need for the mission.

Jesse paid for the ride back to his hotel and greeted the door attendant and the desk clerk as he had done all week, but with rather more warmth. If they noticed, they said nothing, and he went up to his room as usual. As soon as the door was closed, he took out his phone and routed it through the randomizing protocols that gave him a secure connection directly to the command center. He enabled text encryption and began to type in a brief message.

_ Contact established. Response affirmative. Timeline as arranged.  _ Jesse pushed the send button and entered his keycode at the prompt. He sat down on the edge of the hotel bed, still in his coat and hat, and gave in to the whirling magic of feeling in love. 

***

Hanzo’s phone beeped again. His bag was packed, his weapon case prepared and secured. He stood at the window, watching and waiting. The notification was, as expected, from Jesse.

_ Hey there. I’m downstairs with our ride. Should I come up? _

He couldn’t control the smile that took over his face--it existed entirely on its own terms. Hanzo tapped out a reply and sent it.

_ I am ready. I will be right down. _

He looked around the apartment one last time. Everything that needed to be switched off had been. He picked up his things and left.

When Hanzo reached the sidewalk in front of the building, Jesse was leaning up against a cab. The driver opened the trunk and Hanzo quickly stowed his bags. When he returned to the side of the car, Jesse had the door opened for him, and a small white box in his hand.

“Jesse,” Hanzo said. With two syllables, he vocalized everything he might have otherwise said if they had been alone.

“Hey,” replied Jesse, with a smile. He climbed in next to Hanzo and handed him the box. “I got this for you.”

Hanzo gave him a perplexed look before opening the box. Inside was a tiny white cake with a perfect strawberry on top. It was a miniature version of the cake that had distracted him when they’d walked past the bakery the previous afternoon. He raised his eyes to meet Jesse’s.

“Why didn’t you tell me yesterday was your birthday?” Jesse demanded. 

“It was not important. How did you find out?” Hanzo was bewildered.

Jesse answered, “When I got back to the hotel and reported back to HQ, Winston told me to wish you a happy birthday from the team. If I’d known yesterday…”

Hanzo cut him off. “You had already given me the best gift I could have imagined.” 

Jesse unexpectedly blushed beneath his golden skin. His mouth hung slightly open, no words available for a reply. Hanzo cast a swift glance at their driver, and seeing he was paying them no mind, leaned over and gave Jesse a quick kiss on the cheek. Jesse smiled.

“Thank you, Jesse,” Hanzo said softly.

“It was no trouble. No trouble at all,” Jesse replied.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Credit to @minghzi and Matthew Mercer for the chai latte image that would not get out of my head. =)


End file.
